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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516949">Verdant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages'>pressedinthepages</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Drabble, Gen, I Made Myself Cry, Non-Canonical Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:00:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24516949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedinthepages/pseuds/pressedinthepages</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader is a mage, and they try their damndest to save Geralt.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Verdant</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>no one asked for this, but it was inspired by the post: A desperate cleric slamming every healing spell so hard to bring someone back to life the ground is forced to grow plants and flowers around the body. Decades later, guarded by a forest of roses and thorns, lies a corpse refusing to rot.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Your feet fall heavily across the field, tall weeds and grass bending as you run. Brambles tear at the fabric of your trousers, but all you can see is the wyvern, twisting, diving, hurtling towards something on the ground. You come to the top of a hill and look to the valley below you, and you see a blur of black and silver darting amongst the grass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>As the beast plummets towards the Witcher, mouth wide and teeth glinting in the sun, Geralt roars, casting </span>
  <em>
    <span>Quen</span>
  </em>
  <span> before forcing his sword high into the wyvern’s mouth. The blade pierces through the top of its skull, Geralt’s arms fully in its mouth. The wyvern’s body slumps to the ground, the dead weight pushing the sword further through its head. Geralt grunts and wrenches the sword out, the beast finally falling, dead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>From your vantage, you see Geralt huff, his chest heaving with exertion. He wipes his sword on the front of his trousers before placing it back into the sheath across his back. He steps forward and stumbles before falling to his knees, pulling a gasp from your lips as you tear down the hill to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>When you reach Geralt’s side, he is pale and wheezing with every breath. You fling yourself onto the ground next to him and lay him on his back, tearing his armor off to try and find the wound. His golden eyes flicker with pain and, something you’ve never seen from him before, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear. </span>
  </em>
  <span>When he is down to his undershirt, you can see clearly the injury that is causing his pain. At some point, the wyvern’s teeth had torn into one of Geralt’s arms, great slashes along his skin. They are bleeding profusely, and the edges of the wounds are tinged with black venom seeping into his veins. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You rip off your cloak, roughly folding it and pressing it onto his arm. “Hold this here while I get the potions from your pack, where’s Roach?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt grits his teeth in pain and shakes his head, “I left her in one of the stables in town, I didn’t want her to get hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You feel all of the air sapped from your body and your fingers tingle with the chaos just within your reach. You dig into the well within yourself, pulling every ounce of magic from it into the air around you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is his only hope, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you think, as you begin to throw any and every healing spell you know into Geralt’s body. You can feel the earth begin to shake under you and the wind whips through your hair as you desperately try to save the life of the man you love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You begin to sag under the effort, the chaos shifting to you to sap energy. You feel Geralt’s hand squeeze yours and he calls your name. You find his eyes and instantly the quaking stops and the wind stills. The unnatural silence around you is deafening as you see that not a damn thing has worked, his blood pooling beneath your knees, streaked through with black. You steel yourself and take a deep breath to keep trying, but Geralt stops you with only a whisper of your name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your eyes begin to well, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. You hold back a sob as you shift closer to him and take his face in your hands. He is still pale, sweaty, dirty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his already slow heartbeat weakening with each moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t leave me,” you plead, “not yet…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that we have much of a choice, my flower,” Geralt says between breaths, face pinching with even the smallest effort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You look into his eyes, wanting, pleading, praying, trying to save him. You can see the fire dimming, and you know that he is pouring every bit of his energy into staying with you for as long as he can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In all of my years on this Continent,” Geralt murmurs, “I have never known happiness like when I was with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You lean into him, willing every last bit of your energy into him as you rest your foreheads together and let your eyes squeeze shut. You can feel his breath on your cheeks, barely anything in his chest. His heart slows and slows under your fingers, and he finally lets out one, final, deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is still beneath you, and the tears run freely. “I am so sorry…” you whisper, gripping his shirt beneath your fingers as you sob.  You have never felt so empty, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hollow</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you do in this moment, death and agony surrounding you. Darkness permeated your skin, deafening in its finality.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You thread your fingers through his silver hair and pull his head to your chest, rocking his limp form gently as you cry. You’re not sure how long you sit there, but the sun has long set when you feel a sudden burst of energy. You set Geralt back on the ground and fetch his swords, making sure to wipe them of any blood or dirt. As the tears stream down your cheeks, you kneel over his body and, with a gasping shout, thrust the two swords into the ground at his head, a great burst of light and energy with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your legs shake as you stand once more, a gust of wind cooling the tears on your face and neck. Taking a deep breath, you pivot on your toe and run, you have no idea where, but it’s all you can do. The wind follows at your back, the smell of flowers filling the hills and valleys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Centuries later, people tell stories of the great forest that stretches farther than the eye can see. The trees are taller than the clouds on a foggy day, and the ground is covered with a thick spread of ferns and golden flowers that never die or wilt. Allegedly, at the very center of the forest lies the corpse of a man with silver hair and a wolf medallion, still in the same condition as the day he died. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The story of the mage who grew a shrine for the love of their life in grief circles the world, but no one hears about that same mage visiting every year, sitting in a quiet vigil under the moon before stealing away once more.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading :) you can find me on tumblr @thefishmongersdaughterwrites</p></blockquote></div></div>
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